dancing days are here again...
I haven't updated in a while so here we go;
Started a webcomic called PIOUS. The story is set in 1936 and is about a Scottish Catholic priest, Father Campbell, his best friend/scientist/reporter, an Englishman named, Mr. Inshaw and a young American priest in training, Deacon d'Espagnat. Together they travel around Europe confirming miracles and performing exorcisms in the name of the Vatican.
The idea came from a posting in a Doctor Who site that asked for what sort of show would you like to see previous and past Doctor actors in. I thought David Tennant and Christopher Eccleston would make a great team for an Edwardian steampunk series about a priest and his bodyguard. But that idea slowly morphed into a dieselpunk-ish series moved to the 1930's because I thought the rising of the Third Reich would work better for the story I had in mind. (There is a rash of possessions and no one knows why. Father Campbell believes the rising of the Nazis has something to do with it.) The bodyguard became a scientist and a reporter who was the doubter to the priest's believer. And then I added the young deacon for more a mystery element because of his background of having survived an exorcism.
So far, the first couple of pages are up. I am trying to update it every Sunday. Wish me luck. If you have any comments or questions, especially questions, I would love to hear from you.
Meanwhile, I had to scrap the last chapter of Doon because it wasn't working at all. Man, it was awful. The flow was off. The characters were off. The dialog was off. Here is an example;
“I am going to drop my staff!” Ruth bellowed.
The words did not reach Doon. His mind was focused on finding the right exit. Down he dove with Lupe wrapped in his right arm and Ruth being held by her wrist in the other. They had been in the realm for almost half an hour going from mirror to mirror. With each passing minute hundreds of new ones drifted towards him coming out of the dark nothingness. Thousands surrounded him. All holding rooms that he did not want. He was beginning to feel claustraphobic. The more time he spent in the realm, the more drained he became. The ache in his muscles no longer cried only when he used the amulet but by merely holding it. What was even worse that while his body hurt his head did not. In fact, he felt euphoric even high. Memories of Victorian opium parties took hold in his mind. Reflections of him strewed out on an upper class sofa while taking in the addictive vapors. His eyes rolled back into his sockets and his head empty except for one thought, More.
A addictive bond was forming between him and the charm. Doon was for certain of this. The amulet was doping his brain in order to keep him chained to it. This was not the first charm to do this to him. However, back then he had Marcus to wean him off of the talismin. Now, Doon was on his own and he had no choice but to use the amulet.
Where are you, mirror!? his mind spat, If I find you I only need to make one more jump afterward. Please, where are you? His eyelids danced as a snap pleasure burst in the back of skull. Fuck you, you piece of shite. He scrunched up his face and bit his tongue to bring back pain. I refuse to become your junkie.
For a moment, Doon swore he could hear the faintest laughing in his head.
“Doon, slow down!”
Ignoring the girl, Doon soared up as his eyes spotted a small ballroom within a long mirror.
“Doon, please!” Ruth grabbed the Sidhe’s sleeve and yanked as hard as she could.
Doon’s body jerked back. Stopping, he scowled at the girl, “What is it, Ruth!?”
Ruth’s eyes went wide with at the flash of moodiness. A whip of heated anger wanted to snap back. But she stilled herself as she noticed how grey and clammy the Sidhe was starting to look. She fought the urge to place her hand on his temple to feel how bad he was. She could not help but think about the amulet and Doon‘s warning words on parasitic magic. “I dropped my staff, Doon.” Ruth said quietly hoping her tone would calm down the Sidhe, “You were going too fast and it came out of my grip”
The girl’s softness indeed relaxed something in Doon. He shook his head trying to clear the rest of the foul mood. “I’m sorry,” he almost whispered, “What did you say again?”
Still holding onto the Sidhe’s arm Ruth twisted around behind her for a look. “My staff. The thing I was carrying? It‘s go-”
There a few yards away slightly above her was her staff. The weapon was on its side suspended in air as if someone had froze it there.
“Now we know what happens when you drop something here,” frowned Lupe who was leaning past the two for a spot to see. “It stays exactly where you last leave it. Question is; Why?”
“Because it doesn’t have a conscious,” answered Doon.
Lupe dropped her gaze thinking for a moment. “You can’t fall unless you are sure you will fall. The staff doesn’t think, so…”
“It stays put,” Doon nibbled on his lip, “At least that’s how magic seems to work here. On the outside world objects work like that as well.”
“As how?” asked Ruth.
“They don’t do anything on their own. Someone else has to create a cause to get an effect.”
So, there it is. The first couple of pages....I didn't like it at all. I've gone back and restarted the whole thing. Here is a sampling of the reworking;
“Huh,” was the only thing that Ruth could muster up. The word was far from the elegancy and the complexity she wanted to say but her brain was too occupied trying to figure out the sight that laid before her and Doon’s eyes.
There, almost fifteen feet away was her staff. Floating.
“Not correct,” she whispered to herself. Even that word was wrong. The weapon was not quite floating like a balloon. The scene was rather as if someone had pressed the pause button on its existence. She squinted thinking if she tried hard enough she could make out the thin as wisps wires that were suspending the staff in place. But she told herself that the wires did not exist. Only the staff in all its bizarre glory.
“So, that’s what happens when you drop an inanimate object in this place. It sort of…sits there.”
Doon, who was also staring at the staff, cleared his throat, “Told you there wasn’t any gravity here.”
The girl rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, I saw your face when you spotted it. You had the same slack jawed yokel expression that I did.”
“Okay, I admit it,” the Sidhe backtracked without turning to the girl, “I am surprised. But I still had an inking that a non-living object would do that. You need a consciousness to move around her. You have to be able to think up to move up. You have to be able to think down to move down. Blah, blah, blah.”
“Then what about the mirrors?”
Doon’s eyes narrowed. “What about them?”
“They’re not living. How are they moving?”
The Sidhe stared off as his mind cranked trying to figure out an answer. Nothing was coming to him. “Look, I don’t know.” He let out a defeated sigh. “Marcus would know this. It’s his amulet anyway. Plus, he has been studying this weird hocus pocus, multi-dimensional stuff a lot longer than I have.”
“How so? I thought you were born in a different dimension.”
“Not quite different. Think of the Human realm as one room and Tir Na Nog as another in a very large house.”
Ruth liked that idea and imagined her large house being the one Doon was talking about. She named her room the Human Realm. In this scenrio she was sure that Thomas‘ room would be Tir Na Nog. ”What other rooms are there then?” she asked wanting to complete the vision in her head.
“Well, there’s Avalon for the Feys.”
The girl let out a joyful squeal. “Avalon’s real?”
Doon laughed. The girl looked like she was about burst out in a musical number in sheer delight. “Avalon is real, Ruth.”
“Then is King Arthur real? Oh, please tell me he was real. Please!” She was practically vibrating in glee.
“I don’t know.” Doon sheepishly bit his lip hating to disappoint the girl. “Before my time.”
“Before your time?” The girl twisted her mouth as she went over what she knew about the Arthurian legends in her head. “Those stories date back to the sixth century. At least now I have an idea of how old you are. So, if you are less than two thousand years old and Marcus has been studying this sort of magic longer than you, how old is Marcus?”
“Old as dirt.” The Sidhe shrugged. “Honestly, he has never told me. Always changes the subject when I pry. I figured that he has an immortality pact with a deity that states that he can never admit his true age otherwise everything comes undone and he’s gone. Kind of like a Rumpelstilsken but with years rather than a name. Doesn’t bother me really. Still, if I were to guess with everything he has let slip here and there, I would say at least to time of the Ancient Greeks.”
A picture of the man in the photograph that Doon showed her flashed in Ruth‘s head only now he was wrapped in a toga. Strange, he did not look Greek to her with that pinched nose and large, childish eyes of his. She tightened her brow realizing that Doon only meant that era. Marcus was a Celt. Had to be. The notion of this rattled the girl’s brain. So little was known about the Celts. And yet, if Marcus was a Celt he would have such knowledge of the Ancient world. Especially of their myths. Ruth nibbled on her lip in excitement. Marcus could tell her of myths that had been lost for thousands of years. She would have knowledge that not another soul outside of Marcus possessed.
Doon nudged the girl with his elbow. “Hey, ground control to Major Tom.”
Blinking in to gain focus, Ruth shuddered, “Sorry about that.”
“Fried your brain a bit there, didn’t I?”
“Just a tad.”
The Sidhe smirked as he turned to the other girl beside him, “Hey, Lupe, you’re quiet. What do you think of this -”
Lupe had the duffle open. Carefully, she was plucking grapes and placing them in the space in front of her making them stick like magnets on a fridge door. She was creating a smiley face complete with a banana for a grin. “You two were talking and I didn’t want to interupt. So, I did some experimenting of my own. Would plant life move? Take a seed from an apple, bury it in the ground and roots will always go south while the rest of it will go north. The seeds in these grapes are still active. Plants are technically alive.”
“But they don’t think,” said Doon.
I think it flows better in this one. Anyway, all I know is that I need to get my butt in gear and finish it. I have been wasting too much time between chapters.
Until next time. Same bat time. Same bat channel.
Started a webcomic called PIOUS. The story is set in 1936 and is about a Scottish Catholic priest, Father Campbell, his best friend/scientist/reporter, an Englishman named, Mr. Inshaw and a young American priest in training, Deacon d'Espagnat. Together they travel around Europe confirming miracles and performing exorcisms in the name of the Vatican.
The idea came from a posting in a Doctor Who site that asked for what sort of show would you like to see previous and past Doctor actors in. I thought David Tennant and Christopher Eccleston would make a great team for an Edwardian steampunk series about a priest and his bodyguard. But that idea slowly morphed into a dieselpunk-ish series moved to the 1930's because I thought the rising of the Third Reich would work better for the story I had in mind. (There is a rash of possessions and no one knows why. Father Campbell believes the rising of the Nazis has something to do with it.) The bodyguard became a scientist and a reporter who was the doubter to the priest's believer. And then I added the young deacon for more a mystery element because of his background of having survived an exorcism.
So far, the first couple of pages are up. I am trying to update it every Sunday. Wish me luck. If you have any comments or questions, especially questions, I would love to hear from you.
Meanwhile, I had to scrap the last chapter of Doon because it wasn't working at all. Man, it was awful. The flow was off. The characters were off. The dialog was off. Here is an example;
“I am going to drop my staff!” Ruth bellowed.
The words did not reach Doon. His mind was focused on finding the right exit. Down he dove with Lupe wrapped in his right arm and Ruth being held by her wrist in the other. They had been in the realm for almost half an hour going from mirror to mirror. With each passing minute hundreds of new ones drifted towards him coming out of the dark nothingness. Thousands surrounded him. All holding rooms that he did not want. He was beginning to feel claustraphobic. The more time he spent in the realm, the more drained he became. The ache in his muscles no longer cried only when he used the amulet but by merely holding it. What was even worse that while his body hurt his head did not. In fact, he felt euphoric even high. Memories of Victorian opium parties took hold in his mind. Reflections of him strewed out on an upper class sofa while taking in the addictive vapors. His eyes rolled back into his sockets and his head empty except for one thought, More.
A addictive bond was forming between him and the charm. Doon was for certain of this. The amulet was doping his brain in order to keep him chained to it. This was not the first charm to do this to him. However, back then he had Marcus to wean him off of the talismin. Now, Doon was on his own and he had no choice but to use the amulet.
Where are you, mirror!? his mind spat, If I find you I only need to make one more jump afterward. Please, where are you? His eyelids danced as a snap pleasure burst in the back of skull. Fuck you, you piece of shite. He scrunched up his face and bit his tongue to bring back pain. I refuse to become your junkie.
For a moment, Doon swore he could hear the faintest laughing in his head.
“Doon, slow down!”
Ignoring the girl, Doon soared up as his eyes spotted a small ballroom within a long mirror.
“Doon, please!” Ruth grabbed the Sidhe’s sleeve and yanked as hard as she could.
Doon’s body jerked back. Stopping, he scowled at the girl, “What is it, Ruth!?”
Ruth’s eyes went wide with at the flash of moodiness. A whip of heated anger wanted to snap back. But she stilled herself as she noticed how grey and clammy the Sidhe was starting to look. She fought the urge to place her hand on his temple to feel how bad he was. She could not help but think about the amulet and Doon‘s warning words on parasitic magic. “I dropped my staff, Doon.” Ruth said quietly hoping her tone would calm down the Sidhe, “You were going too fast and it came out of my grip”
The girl’s softness indeed relaxed something in Doon. He shook his head trying to clear the rest of the foul mood. “I’m sorry,” he almost whispered, “What did you say again?”
Still holding onto the Sidhe’s arm Ruth twisted around behind her for a look. “My staff. The thing I was carrying? It‘s go-”
There a few yards away slightly above her was her staff. The weapon was on its side suspended in air as if someone had froze it there.
“Now we know what happens when you drop something here,” frowned Lupe who was leaning past the two for a spot to see. “It stays exactly where you last leave it. Question is; Why?”
“Because it doesn’t have a conscious,” answered Doon.
Lupe dropped her gaze thinking for a moment. “You can’t fall unless you are sure you will fall. The staff doesn’t think, so…”
“It stays put,” Doon nibbled on his lip, “At least that’s how magic seems to work here. On the outside world objects work like that as well.”
“As how?” asked Ruth.
“They don’t do anything on their own. Someone else has to create a cause to get an effect.”
So, there it is. The first couple of pages....I didn't like it at all. I've gone back and restarted the whole thing. Here is a sampling of the reworking;
“Huh,” was the only thing that Ruth could muster up. The word was far from the elegancy and the complexity she wanted to say but her brain was too occupied trying to figure out the sight that laid before her and Doon’s eyes.
There, almost fifteen feet away was her staff. Floating.
“Not correct,” she whispered to herself. Even that word was wrong. The weapon was not quite floating like a balloon. The scene was rather as if someone had pressed the pause button on its existence. She squinted thinking if she tried hard enough she could make out the thin as wisps wires that were suspending the staff in place. But she told herself that the wires did not exist. Only the staff in all its bizarre glory.
“So, that’s what happens when you drop an inanimate object in this place. It sort of…sits there.”
Doon, who was also staring at the staff, cleared his throat, “Told you there wasn’t any gravity here.”
The girl rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, I saw your face when you spotted it. You had the same slack jawed yokel expression that I did.”
“Okay, I admit it,” the Sidhe backtracked without turning to the girl, “I am surprised. But I still had an inking that a non-living object would do that. You need a consciousness to move around her. You have to be able to think up to move up. You have to be able to think down to move down. Blah, blah, blah.”
“Then what about the mirrors?”
Doon’s eyes narrowed. “What about them?”
“They’re not living. How are they moving?”
The Sidhe stared off as his mind cranked trying to figure out an answer. Nothing was coming to him. “Look, I don’t know.” He let out a defeated sigh. “Marcus would know this. It’s his amulet anyway. Plus, he has been studying this weird hocus pocus, multi-dimensional stuff a lot longer than I have.”
“How so? I thought you were born in a different dimension.”
“Not quite different. Think of the Human realm as one room and Tir Na Nog as another in a very large house.”
Ruth liked that idea and imagined her large house being the one Doon was talking about. She named her room the Human Realm. In this scenrio she was sure that Thomas‘ room would be Tir Na Nog. ”What other rooms are there then?” she asked wanting to complete the vision in her head.
“Well, there’s Avalon for the Feys.”
The girl let out a joyful squeal. “Avalon’s real?”
Doon laughed. The girl looked like she was about burst out in a musical number in sheer delight. “Avalon is real, Ruth.”
“Then is King Arthur real? Oh, please tell me he was real. Please!” She was practically vibrating in glee.
“I don’t know.” Doon sheepishly bit his lip hating to disappoint the girl. “Before my time.”
“Before your time?” The girl twisted her mouth as she went over what she knew about the Arthurian legends in her head. “Those stories date back to the sixth century. At least now I have an idea of how old you are. So, if you are less than two thousand years old and Marcus has been studying this sort of magic longer than you, how old is Marcus?”
“Old as dirt.” The Sidhe shrugged. “Honestly, he has never told me. Always changes the subject when I pry. I figured that he has an immortality pact with a deity that states that he can never admit his true age otherwise everything comes undone and he’s gone. Kind of like a Rumpelstilsken but with years rather than a name. Doesn’t bother me really. Still, if I were to guess with everything he has let slip here and there, I would say at least to time of the Ancient Greeks.”
A picture of the man in the photograph that Doon showed her flashed in Ruth‘s head only now he was wrapped in a toga. Strange, he did not look Greek to her with that pinched nose and large, childish eyes of his. She tightened her brow realizing that Doon only meant that era. Marcus was a Celt. Had to be. The notion of this rattled the girl’s brain. So little was known about the Celts. And yet, if Marcus was a Celt he would have such knowledge of the Ancient world. Especially of their myths. Ruth nibbled on her lip in excitement. Marcus could tell her of myths that had been lost for thousands of years. She would have knowledge that not another soul outside of Marcus possessed.
Doon nudged the girl with his elbow. “Hey, ground control to Major Tom.”
Blinking in to gain focus, Ruth shuddered, “Sorry about that.”
“Fried your brain a bit there, didn’t I?”
“Just a tad.”
The Sidhe smirked as he turned to the other girl beside him, “Hey, Lupe, you’re quiet. What do you think of this -”
Lupe had the duffle open. Carefully, she was plucking grapes and placing them in the space in front of her making them stick like magnets on a fridge door. She was creating a smiley face complete with a banana for a grin. “You two were talking and I didn’t want to interupt. So, I did some experimenting of my own. Would plant life move? Take a seed from an apple, bury it in the ground and roots will always go south while the rest of it will go north. The seeds in these grapes are still active. Plants are technically alive.”
“But they don’t think,” said Doon.
I think it flows better in this one. Anyway, all I know is that I need to get my butt in gear and finish it. I have been wasting too much time between chapters.
Until next time. Same bat time. Same bat channel.